


turn the world to gold

by reciprocity



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand & Finger Kink, Like Really Really Subtle Ones, M/M, Top Katsuki Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 11:19:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9321170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reciprocity/pseuds/reciprocity
Summary: Viktor comes home, Yuuri welcomes him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd and barely proofread, any mistakes are my own and entirely a result of the fact I am running off of 5 hours of sleep and an unhealthy amount of caffeine at the moment.

“You really need to see Phichit’s Free Skate in person. It’s really something— I know I managed to keep him in check this time, but I think with a bit more refining, he could be a real threat this year.”

“That’s no surprise.” Viktor’s voice was small but enthusiastic over the crackling line. “Yurio is going to be a challenge as well; I know you’ve seen his routine in practice, but he’s an absolute monster during competition.”

Yuuri snorted. “That’s not surprising, either. We both knew he wouldn’t give up his title easily.” A pause. “You know, Viktor. Standing on the podium without you there, it’s not... It wasn’t the same.”

Yuuri could hear a drawn breath. When Viktor’s voice returned, it was decidedly softer, mournful almost. “I know, Yuuri. I wish I could’ve—”

“I know.” Yuuri smiled, shifting the phone where it perched on his shoulder. He ran his fingers restlessly through Makkachin’s fur, the dog perched half on his lap, half on Viktor’s usual side of the bed. “You’ll have to kiss my medal once you get back home still.”

“Of course,” Viktor answered easily, voice dropping an octave. “I’ll kiss more than that once I get back, _kotyenok_.”

Biting back another laugh bubbling up in his throat, Yuuri rolled his eyes. There was an old familiar weight in his chest, one he had grown more used to as the months dragged by and Viktor’s absences at his side became more of a regularity, but had yet to become any less heartrending. He knew it was vaguely ridiculous, to miss the man when he was only ever gone half a week at most, knowing full well Viktor would be just as anxious to return home to him. It didn’t ease the ache of it any.

He bit his lip, fingernails scratching lightly at a spot just behind Makkachin’s ears. The dog whined appreciatively, pressing up into the touch.

“Makkachin misses you, you know.”

“Just Makkachin?”

Viktor’s tone was teasing, knowing. Yuuri was secretly grateful Viktor could not see him in that moment, hiding his slightly watery grin against the phone’s screen. “Mmh, maybe I do a bit, too.”

Yuuri could hear the smile in Viktor’s voice, could perfectly picture the soft warmth of it. “I miss you too, Yuuri. Both of you.” Another pause, this time accompanied by the faint sound of voices farther away, and then Viktor’s own muffled response.

Viktor sighed noisily into the receiver. “I’m sorry, Yuuri, but I’ve got to go.” He sounded mournful, a plaintive note clear in his words. Yuuri could just imagine the look Yakov was undoubtedly giving him. It was almost enough to make Yuuri feel less forlorn himself.

He forced a small, light hum. “Alright, Viktor. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course, _lyubov moya_. I’ll be counting the minutes.”

Yuuri hung up and abruptly buried his face in Makkachin’s scruff. The dog yipped quietly, tail wagging anxiously.

Yuuri gave himself a minute to collect his thoughts, allowing himself to feel the full pain of the empty pit in his stomach. The bed sheets felt overcool beneath his bare legs, the bed itself too large and foreign without Viktor in it beside him.

When he released Makkachin, the dog barked again, and licked once, playfully, at Yuuri’s chin. Yuuri laughed and pet her once more, endlessly grateful for the company in Viktor’s overly quiet flat.

After a moment, he forced himself up. Stretching, he dragged himself to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Today had been long— the entire last three days had been. Between the ongoing competition (now, blessedly over) and Viktor’s trip to his own assigned country, Yuuri had hardly gotten a moment to himself: a fact he was moreover grateful for, as it gave him less time to pathetically yearn for his fiancé.

It was both a pain and a relief to have been able to stay in St. Petersburg, while Viktor had been the one assigned elsewhere for this stage of the Grand Prix this year. While it hurt being reminded of Viktor even just walking through their shared apartment, it was a strange comfort to be surrounded by him, in belongings, if not in person, at least.

He sighed and, allowing himself a bit of an indulgence, pulled Viktor’s towel from the rack instead of his own. It smelled faintly of him still, even having just been washed, and Yuuri buried his nose in it for a moment before throwing it over the shower door.

One more night, he reminded himself, feeling quite frankly ridiculous at the butterflies set off in his stomach at the thought of Viktor in his arms again, but lighter for it, too. He stepped into the spray and let the warmth of it settle into his weary limbs, leaking the tension from his body and mind.

 

_________________________________

 

The airport wasn’t too busy at this hour, Yuuri was grateful to note. He had left Makkachin at home for the trip; she had fallen asleep hours ago and Yuuri didn’t have the heart to wake her, even knowing how the sight of her would’ve made Viktor grin.

He regretted it now, almost, feeling alone and bored. Viktor’s flight had been delayed, it seemed. He hadn’t mentioned it to Yuuri that morning, when he had called to let him know what time they would be landing, but there were myriad reasons he wouldn’t have been able to get ahold of Yuuri had he even found out beforehand.

It was late, and Yuuri had begun to doze off in his seat, eyes trained on the exit gate. So he missed the moment when the plane arrived and passengers began to make their way out, only waking when an announcement over the speaker was made, making Yuuri jump up from his slouch instinctively. 

It did not take him long to spot Viktor: Yuuri would be able to pick him out of a crowd no matter how dense it was, the unmistakable shine of his ridiculous hair, even the way he carried himself infinitely obvious to Yuuri, who had spent most of his entire life watching the other man move.

Yuuri did not run to meet him, but he would be hard-pressed to say his feet did not gradually pick up speed as he made his way through the small crowd, pulled forward as though he was caught on a wire pulled taut between the two of them.

Viktor’s face, when he finally caught sight of Yuuri in return, was a mess. Yuuri might have been embarrassed by it, were he not certain his own features were arranged in a ridiculous grin of his own.

“Yuuri!” Viktor trilled, loud and unabashed. As soon as they were within arm’s distance, Viktor had him in a crushing hold, arms tight around his waist, lifting Yuuri clean off his feet and spinning him, face buried in the skin of Yuuri’s throat.

Yuuri couldn’t hold back his own laugh, the ache in his chest suddenly gone, his entire body feeling lighter than it had in days.

Viktor set him down, hands immediately coming up to cup Yuuri’s face. Yuuri blinked at the sudden blurriness of his vision. _It’s only been four days_ , he chided himself. _Shut up_ , the much larger and much louder part of himself countered.

Viktor leaned in, tipping their foreheads together. “I missed you so much, love,” he murmured, eyes on Yuuri’s lips, flickering up to his eyes and down again, taking in all of Yuuri like he had never seen him before, like he wanted to commit him to memory before he lost the chance.

Yuuri knew Yakov must be nearby, and the rest of the Russians who had been assigned to Spain, along with the rest of the passengers from Viktor’s flight, and countless, countless others.

He did not consider any of them even once as he titled their mouths together, grinning carelessly into the kiss. “I missed you, too.”

 

_________________________________

 

Viktor woke to the faint glow of morning light creeping in through his bedroom’s curtains.

It took him a moment to orient himself— the room was dim around him, and his sleep-addled mind took a minute to register the familiarity of his surroundings, the warmth of the body in bed beside him.

When he did realize, he felt a smile curling his lips, contentment flooding his chest as he nuzzled further into the skin at the back of Yuuri’s neck, briefly tightening his hold around the other man’s waist. He took a moment to let himself breathe in deep, feeling at home in a way that had little to do with whose bed he was sleeping in and everything to do with who was sleeping in his bed.

Yuuri did not wake as Viktor pulled away, sitting up and blinking at the darkened room. He hardly remembered much of last night, aside from the crashing relief of being back at Yuuri’s side, safely in his arms.

The last few days had been so long and he had missed Yuuri acutely every moment he had been away. He knew it was a bit silly, to pine for someone he was engaged to, with whom he shared an apartment and would be returning to within the week, but that knowledge didn’t stop him from whining to Yakov, or whoever would lend an ear, for the duration of the trip.

He had come in first this time, guaranteeing his spot in the Finals and only barely edging out in front of Yuri’s silver. It was nice, knowing he still had it in him to win, but the victory rang hollow without his Yuuri there to share in it.

Viktor padded out to the kitchen. He heard the skittering of paws against the tile behind him, and turned to bend low and wrap his dog in his arms. She huffed into his ear and Viktor laughed quietly in return.

“I’m glad to be home, too, Makkachin.”

He busied himself making coffee, still too lethargic to bother with breakfast yet. He would wait for Yuuri to wake, he decided; it was already well past seven and Viktor knew that while Yuuri wasn’t precisely a morning person, he was still used to his practice schedule, and would undoubtedly be up soon.

As Viktor crept around the apartment, quiet so as not to wake his fiancé before he had to, he took note of all the subtle changes in his home that had occurred during the handful of months since Yuuri had moved in: the much-expanded selection of food in his pantry and refrigerator, the spare glasses case on the TV stand, an odd jacket thrown across the back of a dining room chair. It made Viktor smile, more than happy to see the small adjustments in his life that had followed the biggest change of all. Viktor had made his home in Yuuri; it seemed the least he could do was allow Yuuri to make a home in his.

By the time he made it back to the bedroom, coffee mug in hand, Yuuri was stretching himself awake, still buried under covers.

Viktor smiled at the sight of his mussed hair, his unsure blinking at the dimness and fuzziness of the room around him.

“Viktor?” he called in a voice still hoarse from sleep. The sound of it made Viktor shiver slightly, abruptly aware of how long it had been since he had Yuuri’s voice hoarse from— other things.

“Yes, love,” he answered, setting aside his mug and sitting back on the bed. He leaned back on the headboard, and ran a gentle hand through Yuuri’s hair.

Yuuri smiled at the touch. They didn’t say anything for a few long minutes, happy to resettle into one another’s presence.

“What time’s it?” Yuuri yawned. He was sighing at each brush of Viktor’s fingers against his scalp; Viktor bit his lip, considering.

“Still early,” Viktor answered after a moment. Yuuri opened his eyes, peering up at him.

“Did you make breakfast?”

“Mmh, not yet.”

Yuuri sat up a bit, making Viktor draw his hand out of the way. He was surprised to feel fingertips suddenly encircling his wrist. “Sorry, it’s just, that was— nice.” Yuuri was blushing slightly. Viktor took in his expression, still sleep-soft; unselfconscious.

“Okay,” he said, not entirely sure what was he answering to.

He pulled out of Yuuri’s grip easily, and went to tangle their fingers together instead. Laying back fully on the bed, he turned to face him, not quite close enough to kiss, but enough so that he could feel Yuuri’s warm breath against his face.

Yuuri smiled at him then, so intimate and full of affection. Viktor felt his heart thud hard in his chest. Before he could entirely think the action through, he was bringing their joined hands up his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of Yuuri’s hand.

The other man’s gaze went a bit wide, still raw with emotion. Viktor saw the moment he relaxed, all of the air in his chest released at once. Viktor laid another kiss to his skin, this time just below his knuckles. Yuuri settled further into the bed, watching Viktor with calm and half-lidded eyes.

Viktor kissed the ring on Yuuri’s finger. The metal was cool beneath his lips, even with the heat shared between them. Viktor let his eyes slide shut as he continued to trail his lips upward, disentangling their fingers to turn Yuuri’s hand in his, pressing delicate kisses to the tips of each finger. He could hear Yuuri’s breath slowing; felt it against the back of his own hand.

He pulled away, only a fraction of an inch, and opened his eyes. Yuuri’s own had slipped shut at some point; Viktor might have suspected he had fallen asleep if not for the occasional hitch in his breathing, the obvious tenseness in his fingers.

Viktor licked his lips once, and put just the tip of Yuuri’s third finger into his open mouth.

He watched the way Yuuri’s eyes sprang open, pupils suddenly wide and intense. “Viktor,” he breathed, voice strained and high, and Viktor felt the heat in his stomach coalesce into one sharp burn.

Viktor pushed Yuuri’s finger further into the heat of his mouth, laving his tongue against the soft skin. Yuuri made a noise somewhere between a moan and a whine. Viktor could feel his cock already twitching to attention in the loose sweats he wore.

Yuuri pressed his finger in deeper, and Viktor moaned. He let his eyes fall shut once again. Yuuri fucked into his mouth with small, careful motions. The feeling was so evocative of other activities they had performed, just days ago, in this exact bed, that Viktor felt his cock rapidly filling. Viktor felt the pressure of every second of their separation, making Viktor far more desperate from this minimal amount of stimulation than he would’ve normally been.

 _Or, maybe not_ , he thought, as he felt Yuuri nudge a second finger into his mouth. Yuuri had always, always had a penchant for breaking Viktor’s cool composure with barely a flick of his wrist, without ever even having to try.

He let his mouth part around the second digit, a whine caught high in his throat. His free hand came up to press against the bulge in his pants.

“Mm, Viktor, wait,” Yuuri said, voice wavering. Viktor sucked on the fingers in his mouth, and Yuuri groaned audibly. Viktor was suddenly glad for Yuuri’s lack of filter this early in the morning. He thrust his fingers in deep; Viktor accepted the obtrusion gladly, the faint taste of metal from Yuuri’s ring in his mouth.

“ _Vik--tor_.” Yuuri’s voice broke around the middle.

Viktor hummed, distracted. He curled his fingers around Yuuri’s wrist, keeping him in place

“ _Vitya_.”

The firmness of his tone had Viktor abruptly still, eyes snapped open.

Yuuri pulled his fingers from Viktor’s mouth, an audible pop resounding in the quiet of the flat. Yuuri was flushed deeply, panting, and so gorgeous it almost hurt Viktor to look at him. But there was something steely in his gaze now too, lurking behind the heat there.

Viktor swallowed, a sharp stab of desire tightening his throat.

Hs fingers were wet with Viktor’s own saliva as he used them to tip Viktor’s face toward his own. “Viktor,” Yuuri started, and Viktor knew this tone, felt his body quickly go pliant in response. “Stop touching yourself.”

Viktor whined slightly, but obediently pulled his hand from his already-aching cock. Yuuri watched him and hummed, satisfied. His gaze landed back on Viktor’s; he issued no further instructions, but used his other hand— the one not damp with spit, to wrap around Viktor’s bared hip. He tugged there, lightly, but enough, and Viktor was moving almost immediately.

He pulled the sheets off of Yuuri in one easy movement; went to straddle his hips in almost the same motion. He groaned at the feeling of Yuuri, obviously hard beneath him, and barely resisted the urge to grind down.

Yuuri’s hands found their way to Viktor's waist, grip steady even with his shaking fingers. Viktor leaned down and kissed Yuuri. His mouth opened readily beneath his, thrusting his tongue immediately into the heat of Viktor’s mouth. Viktor moaned, fingers scrabbling at the fabric of Yuuri’s shirt.

“Can I—” he panted against Yuuri’s mouth, and received a quick nod in response. They parted just far enough to pull Yuuri’s shirt up and over his head, mouths meeting as soon as their movements allowed. Viktor’s hips shifted against Yuuri’s, seeking friction instinctively.

Yuuri groaned, grinding his cock into Viktor’s hip. His hands moved down to cup Viktor’s ass, fingers pressing insistent. Viktor rode Yuuri’s still-clothed erection in earnest, small moans falling unbidden from his lips.

“Off, Viktor,” Yuuri was mumbling against the corner of his jaw.

It took a moment for Viktor’s mind to catch up with the words, and another for him to understand what Yuuri was asking for, but one he had registered them, he was quickly lifting himself up and pulling his sweats off in one efficient motion.

Yuuri groaned quietly beneath him. Viktor watched his gaze drag greedily over his body, eyes half-lidded, decidedly no longer from sleepiness.

Licking his lips, Yuuri hooked his fingers in the waistband of his own underwear and peeled it off of himself, definitely slower than Viktor had been. Viktor both cursed and thanked God for Yuuri’s inclination towards showing off, even ( _particularly_ ) in the bedroom.

Viktor’s gaze snagged on Yuuri’s now-exposed cock, curved and leaking onto his stomach. Viktor whined, mouth watering at the sight.

He dropped his hips, letting their erections drag against one another. They both groaned at the sensation. Yuuri’s hands were back at his hips and squeezing. They fell into an easy rhythm, bodies quickly attuned to each other, an old and familiar call-and-response.

Yuuri groaned out Viktor’s name at one point, dragged his fingers up, up Viktor’s bare stomach. He stopped at his chest, briefly, and flicked at Viktor’s pert nipples, making Viktor gasp, cock jerking against Yuuri’s hip. Yuuri looked entirely too pleased with himself, deep brown eyes defiant and sparkling.

Viktor, determined to make Yuuri into just as much of a mess as the other man had made him, gripped one of Yuuri’s wrists, bringing his hand up to his mouth and taking two of his fingers into his mouth without preamble.

A noise escaped Yuuri’s throat, something close to a choked moan. Viktor smirked around the fingers in his mouth, sucking and licking at them fervently. Yuuri swore, thrusting farther into Viktor’s mouth and grinding his cock up roughly, heedless of the way it ruined their cadence.

“Viktor, let me—”

Viktor was already answering, “Yes, _yes_ ,” before Yuuri could get a sentence out. He shifted forward, reaching for the jar in the top drawer of the nightstand.

Just as his fingers wrapped around it, he felt a sudden warm wetness against his hip, the unmistakable sharpness of teeth.

“ _Shit_.” Viktor swayed back into bed, markedly less graceful and composed than before. Yuuri grinned shamelessly up at him, shrugging as Viktor glared halfheartedly.

“Hurry, _Vik-tor_.” Yuuri knew what that particular pitch of his voice did to Viktor, just as Viktor knew he knew. If he had any room left in himself for it, he might have felt annoyance at the obvious play. As it was, he only groaned and began slicking up his own hand sloppily.

Yuuri watched with intent as he lifted his hips and teased at his own entrance. Viktor was over-eager, desperate to have Yuuri inside of him already, and thrust a finger in up to the knuckle too fast, biting at his lip painfully to offset the burn of it.

Yuuri, sensing his discomfort, ran a gentle hand down Viktor’s side. “Come here,” he murmured and pulled Viktor down to bite at his lips for him.

It was easier this way, with Yuuri’s distracting mouth against his. His body slowly re-accustomed to the stretch, and it wasn’t long before Viktor was pressing in a second, and then third digit. “Yuuri,” he moaned brokenly against the skin of Yuuri’s neck.

“Shh,” Yuuri soothed, voice hushed.

Viktor gasped, feeling Yuuri’s fingers stroke once against his opening. He hadn’t noticed Yuuri coating his own hand, but it was undeniably slick. He teased at the edges, before pushing in roughly alongside Viktor’s fingers. 

Viktor swore, slipping into Russian, the stretch too much and not enough. “Yuuri, _pozhaluista_.”

He pressed in deeper, searching, until he grazed over Viktor’s prostate. Viktor shuddered hard against him, mouth going slack over Yuuri’s pulse.

Yuuri hummed again, openly gratified, though Viktor could feel the tenseness in the body beneath his, muscles coiled tight and shaking very slightly.

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathed, pitching his voice as piteously as he could. “Yuuri, hurry and _fuck_ me, _please_.”

He could feel the way Yuuri breathed in sharply at that, how his cock jerked, trapped between their bodies. Yuuri withdrew his finger and Viktor removed his own with it. He raised up, letting Yuuri reach down and slick himself up.

Viktor moaned wantonly at the first touch of Yuuri’s dick sliding against his ass. He shifted restlessly back, feeling desperate and uncomfortably empty, but Yuuri only teased at his hole, leaving Viktor to ride idly against his length.

“ _Yuuri, _” Viktor whined, bereft. His nails scratched light red lines against the pale expanse of Yuuri’s chest.__

“I’ve got you,” Yuuri answered gently, curving his free hand against the line of Viktor’s jaw. Cupping the back of his neck, he pulled him in for a kiss, gentling the rabbit of Viktor’s heart as he finally lined himself up and pressed into the welcoming heat of him.

He slid in slow, Viktor keening into Yuuri’s mouth, nails digging sharp into his skin. Yuuri hissed and jerked his hips up, abruptly bottoming out inside of him. He gave Viktor a moment to adjust, before pulling out and thrusting back in, _hard_.

Sounds slipped past Viktor’s lips without intent, his entire world narrowed down to the point where he and Yuuri joined. His own cock bobbed, red and leaking steadily between their stomachs. He felt close to undone already, broken open and raw all over.

“Viktor.” Yuuri’s voice anchored him, pulling him back together. “Can you…”

Viktor took the words as the gentle command they were, and dropped his hips. Yuuri thrust upwards, meeting him halfway, and the both of them moaned at the feeling of it. “ _Good_ ,” Yuuri praised, sending small sparks all along Viktor’s spine.

Viktor had dreamed often while he was gone. Not of this, exactly, but of Yuuri certainly, of him hot and eager against him, inside him. They were all a poor substitute for the actual thing: Yuuri real and steady below him, voice ragged and skin glistening and so, so beautiful in the faint morning light.

Yuuri canted his hips in a particular way, dragging his dick against a precise spot, and Viktor nearly shouted.

He felt a familiar pressure gathering low in his stomach, woefully early and without Yuuri even touching him once. His hands reached out blindly, Yuuri’s finding them easily; he threaded their fingers neatly together, thumbs stroking against the ridge of Viktor’s knuckles.

Yuuri, sensing Viktor was close, pressed purposefully against his prostate on every thrust, Viktor’s own movements rapidly becoming arrhythmic and jerky.

“Go ahead, Viktor,” Yuuri murmured, pressing kisses against the skin of Viktor’s shoulder, hands tightening over his own. “Come for me.”

Viktor came with a near-sob; his cock jerking hard, still untouched, and coating Yuuri’s stomach and chest with come. Viktor rode Yuuri through it, clenching around him and earning a sharp bite to his shoulder.

“God, yes, _good_ , Viktor, you did so good,” Yuuri was babbling, lips pressing tiny kisses against his clavicle, up his neck, over his jaw. Viktor shuddered, a soft whine finding its way from his throat.

It took him a few moments to come entirely back to himself, breathing through his nose and trying to reorient himself. Yuuri’s hips had slowed beneath his, though he could feel the rigidness in his shoulders, a palpable effort to keep himself from fucking up into Viktor.

Viktor was suddenly, achingly tender; Yuuri stroked at his flanks, waiting patiently for him to come down from his orgasm before he moved.

After a minute, Viktor experimentally rolled his hips. The pressure was overwhelming, but in its own way grounding, too. Yuuri groaned underneath him, and he did it again; kissed at the juncture between Yuuri’s shoulder and neck and murmured a soft, “Go ahead, love.”

Yuuri drew Viktor up to kiss him on the mouth as his hips snapped up; Viktor mewled into his mouth, the sensation too much too soon. Yuuri was somehow gentle as he pressed mercilessly into him, soft words of encouragement falling on Viktor’s mostly-deaf ears. It only took a few more thrusts for Yuuri to come, trembling and voice hoarse as he groaned out Viktor’s name.

Viktor collapsed on top of him as soon as he was done, limbs weak and brow shining with sweat. Yuuri pet his sides, fingernails running soothingly along the ridge of his spine.

It was only a few seconds (or possibly minutes, hours— Viktor’s post-coital brain was not too bothered with keeping track) before Yuuri was talking again, Viktor half-listening, drifting in a contented haze somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

“Viktor,” he called, for what was undoubtedly not the first time, judging by his fond, if exasperated tone.

“Hm?”

“We have to get up soon, or we’ll be late.”

“Late,” Viktor parroted back, unsure to what exactly Yuuri was referring.

A huff, Yuuri’s breath blowing back some of the hair falling over Viktor’s forehead. “For practice.” Yuuri paused, and then: “We should get cleaned up, at least.”

Viktor hummed, and began tracing small circles on the back of Yuuri’s hand.

“We should get breakfast, too,” Yuuri tried, tone softer now.

Viktor titled his head, looking up into Yuuri’s face from his position on Yuuri’s chest. He smiled at him, eyes lidded heavily, and murmured a soft, “Mhm,” in answer. He dropped a small kiss to Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri laughed, the sound melodic and beautiful to Viktor’s ears. He felt the other man settle more firmly against him, giving up his prodding and curling his fingers into the hair at the back of Viktor’s nape.

Tone entirely gentle now, leaking affection: “I’m glad you’re home, Viktor.”

Viktor looked up again, meeting Yuuri’s eyes and feeling overfull from the emotions laid bare in them. He shifted closer, tangling their fingers together and laying another kiss to them. He ran his fingertips over the smooth coolness of the ring there and let himself settle into the cadence of Yuuri’s breathing, warm and content.

“Mmh, me too, Yuuri.”

**Author's Note:**

> It was only a matter of time. Kudos/comments are appreciated as ever, thank you for reading!


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